Illusions
by Blissful Moment
Summary: The very world you live in may just be an illusion created by your own mind.
1. One

====

**One.**

====

Dante Sparda let out an unhappy sigh as his tired blue eyes scanned his surroundings for what felt like the five hundredth time. He felt like he was on another wild goose chase, as he often was nowadays. There would always be an abandoned city with an urban legend behind it, and the common peasant would grow afraid of it and call the amazing Dante to come and explore it.

            This wasn't exactly a city, though. Wooden houses covered about three square miles of land—a very small town indeed. The houses were all built together, one right beside another, as if it were a makeshift city. What was odd, though, was that the windows of every single building were boarded up, with pictures of windows painted on the boards over the real windows. Some doors were ripped from their hinges as well, and Satanic graffiti decorated the walls. Dante still could not understand why some teenagers thought it would be fun or cool to spray paint a pentagram or a swastika somewhere that only they would see it. Occasionally the Devil Hunter would stumble across a building that was entirely cleaned out, with the exception of piles of gutted animal carcasses, no doubt used in sacrifices. Still, some houses remained entirely untouched, and some tables were set as if a family was just about to sit down for dinner. It was as if the entire town had dropped dead all at once, without warning.

            There was something definitely unsettling about this place, however. There was no wind here. There was no humidity here. For summer, it was a lot colder than it should have been. The light seemed to shun this place, refusing to shine down on it. The trees even gave a sense of foreboding. They actually seemed to bend and twist away from the buildings in the city, as if something horrible would befall them if they grew within four feet of a house.

            It was after midnight now as well. Because Dante didn't believe in the use of flashlights, the only light to illuminate his path would have been from the stars and the moon, if they were not clouded over on what should have been warm summer night. The town was nearly pitch black, and to Dante, very, very boring. Whatever beast or demon may have been roaming about in this godforsaken place obviously was not in the mood to have guests or to party that night.

            Looking over to his right, he could make out the outline of his blonde female partner. Trish was obviously bored and unhappy as well, finding a small rock on the ground to be very, very amusing. Dante stared at her for a few seconds, trying to analyze the situation that they were in to himself.

            "If something doesn't happen soon, I'm going to have to break out into song," he said suddenly.

            Trish's head snapped up to look at her colleague. She wrinkled her brow in confusion, which went unseen in the darkness. She knew that Dante was never one to randomly break out into song.

            "Song?" she asked.

            Dante smiled and turned his head away from her. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his long red trench coat swayed back and forth on his heels for a few seconds before turning to his left and walking up against a boarded up house. He placed his right hand on the side of the wooden building and looked up, surveying the black velvet sky. Taking a deep breath, he realized that the air here was not crisp like it should have been. Rather, it seemed a bit heavy. Scowling a little, he faced back to Trish and walked toward her again.

            "Yes, song," he said. "Maybe it'll attract something's attention. I know I'd be amused if I saw a big guy in a red coat start dancing and singing to the Ghostbusters song."

            Trish smiled and shook her head. "Yeah, I do feel like a Ghostbuster out here. Why don't we just check a few of the boarded up houses and then call it a night? I'm bored and tired."

            "Is complaining all you can do?" Dante asked with a smile, walking out ahead of her. "Go check the house I just walked to before. I'll check down here."

            "Got it!" Trish called after him as he seemed to be getting pretty far ahead of her. "And you complain more than I do, you big wuss!"

            Dante chuckled to himself a bit at Trish's last comment. She was right; he did complain a lot on the boring missions. He thought he was behaving this time, though. And, speaking of behavior, Trish had changed noticeably since Dante had first met her. Well, of course, besides the whole trying to kill him thing. Trish had become a lot more open and random within the year the two had known each other. She had been trying to develop Dante's sense of humor, but they both knew that she had a long way to go before she could reach that level of cynicism and sarcasm.

            She had become a lot more emotional, too. Whenever in a petty argument over something, Dante would always make a cheap comment such as, 'Well at least I never tried to send you to your death,' or 'Don't make me throw you in the ocean along with the rest of your little family there, which I disposed of single handedly, I might add.' Even though Trish would always force a laugh, Dante knew it killed her inside. He wouldn't let up on the jokes, though. He always figured that Trish needed to be able to take whatever anyone could throw at her.

            After all, Trish was a demon. She knew that, and he knew that. Neither could understand why she had changed the way she did, and neither of them ever spoke a word about it. Dante hated that about her, though. He hated the fact that not only was she a demon, but that she was spawned to purposely look exactly like his mother. It was a sick joke of his enemy. Because of her origin and appearance, whenever Dante would look into her eyes for an extended period of time, he could see only himself staring back. Trish still couldn't understand why he never looked her in the eyes when he talked to her, or why she would always win the heated arguments that involved her staring right at him for a while.

            Dante snapped back to reality as he realized that he was already at a good specimen of a house to explore. He reached up to grab the handle, but hesitated as he did. Just as he was about to squeeze the knob, the once dead and seemingly hiding wind picked up noticeably. It was as if a hurricane was about to hit. The moonlight peaked out from behind a cloud as if it wanted to shine directly on the Hunter. His hair, now silver in the light, blew up against his face, and he put his left hand in front of his eyes to shield them from the fierce wind. They seemed to burn inside of his skull to the point where he thought he was becoming blind. The howling wind was deafening, and the houses creaked and moaned like gunshots. The gale felt like pins and needles on his exposed flesh, and the only thing he could smell or taste was that of the air—nothing.

There was nothing around him now. He could not see, hear, feel, taste, or smell. All of his senses were completely blacked out, and he felt as if he were entirely at peace with the world. Of course, that sent a shiver of fear and panic down the Hunter's soul. He could not stand the idea of not being able to control his actions. The only thing he could use was his mind. Confused and frantic, he let his right hand drop back to his side, and the world around him was dead again, and the moon slipped back behind a giant, never ending cloud. He was back in the abandoned city again. And he was back in his body again.

            Cold sweat poured down his face. His pupils were dilated. His breathing was sporadic. Paranoia gripped him tightly. His head whipped from side to side, and he turned around quickly a few times to look for something, someone to explain to him what had just happened. Dante had been to the bowels of hell and back, and the things he had seen had disturbed him greatly, but at least he had seen them. This was the first time in his life that he had no control over anything around him. This was the first time that he had no sense of direction or placement. This was the first time in a very long time that he had been truly frightened.

            He swallowed hard, trying to catch his shallow breath. His head was spinning, but he was always a determined and stubborn man. He now had to go into this house, whether the wind would allow him to or not. He would try to rise above the elements until he succeeded or died trying. He took another deep breath and tried to calm himself, telling himself that he was acting like a child.

            Satisfied with that, he took one last deep breath, straightened himself out, and cracked his knuckles. Bouncing slightly on his toes for a bit to get him ready as if he were a boxer preparing for a match, he tried to convince himself that he could take anything that the weather tried to dish out. Nodding once, he rushed forward to the door, putting his full weight on the fragile wood, knocking it down, and going down with it. Hard.

            The weather remained the same. He was still in his body.

            Pain stung at the Devil Hunter's left temple, and he realized that he had made a stupid move. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that it was the entire left side of his body, seeing as how that was what he had landed on. He took a deep breath, now disgruntled, and rolled over onto his stomach. Using his right arm, he pushed himself up onto his knees, and carefully made his way onto his feet. He rubbed his eyes and cracked his neck, and at that moment, all he wanted was to go home.

            Opening his eyes, he blinked for a few seconds, looking at his surroundings. It looked like nothing more than a bedroom, as a matter of fact. On the far right side, there was a bed up against the wall, which was made very neatly. Directly in front of Dante was a giant bookshelf, filled to its maximum. The books all seemed relatively new, along with the bed. No dust had befallen either of them, as if someone were here taking care of them. On the far left there was a small round wooden table with a vase in the center of it holding a bright red rose. Despite the fact that there was barely any light in the room, the crimson rose stood out. Over the table hung a painting of a landscape.

            Looking harder, Dante could see something seated at the table. He took a few steps forward. It was a woman. It was a woman in a plain long black dress, reading a book, not even acknowledging the intruder's presence. Dante was amazed.

            "Well, what do we have here?" he asked.

            "I should be asking you that question," she said, not bothering to look up from her book. "You crash into my home uninvited, break my door, and then ask me what I'm doing here."

            "Your home?" Dante asked, slightly taken aback. "You live here?"

            "No, it's my home, but I don't live here," she commented, rolling her eyes and turning the page.

            Dante chuckled. "I like sarcasm in a woman."

            "I prefer intelligence in a man."

            He scowled. She went on, "You couldn't even handle your own mind out there just now."

            "You did that?" he asked, completely ignoring the blatant insult.

            "Yes I did."

            "How?"

            The woman reached over onto the table and grabbed a small slip of paper. Placing it between the pages of her book, she closed it and softly placed it down onto the round table. Pushing her chair out from under the table, she gracefully lifted her body to her feet. Her hair covered her face as she looked down at the floor. Rather, the part closest to her face did. Her hairstyle was odd. It was grown down past her chin at the front, but cut up to the baseline of her skull in the back. Dante raised both of his eyebrows. She seemed a lot taller when she was seated. To his eyes, he guess that she wasn't any taller than five feet. She leaned over the small table and grabbed the rose out of the vase and let her hand drop back down to her side.

            She then turned her head to look over at Dante. He squinted to try to get a good look at her face. It was hard to make out her features. With the rose still in her hand, she started towards the Hunter. Slowly but surely, he could begin to distinguish her face. It was very slim, but her cheekbones were not particularly high. Her dark brown hair framed her face perfectly. Her eyes seemed to be particularly outlined in black, but Dante had a gut feeling that she wasn't wearing any makeup. He was drawn in by her eyes, though. They were a deep and soulful brown, and seemed to go on forever…

            He didn't even realize how close she was to him until she smiled timidly at him, which immediately broke him out of his trance. He felt his heart sink right then and there, and couldn't understand why. She lifted her right arm up and placed the rose into his belt, right next to one of his twin guns, Ebony. He swallowed hard.

            Dante dared not to look back into her eyes, in fear that he would become lost in them again. His eyes fell onto the amulet that she was wearing around her neck. It was relatively large. A huge ruby was in the middle, with thick silver lining it. Instead of shock, Dante only felt a bit of confusion.

            "Hey, that necklace," he said calmly, not exactly recognizing his own voice.

            "Do you like it?" she asked.

            "I had one just like it," he said, his voice distant. "It was my mother's. I got one, and my brother Vergil got one just like it. Yeah… it was our sixth birthday…"

            "Vergil?" she asked, surprised. "Well, if you're looking for Vergil, he isn't here. He's been dead for a year now."

            "Yeah," Dante began getting dizzy with every word he spoke.

            Her eyes narrowed. "Killed by his own brother."

            Dante snapped back into attention, realizing what she had just said. He cleared his throat and stopped himself from saying something that might anger his new acquaintance. He shook his head to gather his thoughts.

            "Forget it," he said. "Now, why don't you tell me how you were able to conjure up the spirit of the wind?"

            She smiled again. "The mind is a very powerful thing, Dante. Use it."

            Dante's expression became stone. He had no idea what this woman was trying to pull on him, or even what she was talking about.

            "Think of this," she said. "If you take away all of your senses, like what just happened to you. If you make it so that you can no longer see, hear, feel, taste, or smell, what do you have? You just have you, as one being. The only thing that you can prove exists is yourself and God. You know you're there, and you know that something had to create you."

            "Something had to create God as well," Dante scowled.

            She shook her head, dismissing his comment. "Dante, for all you know, you may not really be here right now. Everything, everyone you know may not really exist. Everything you see and everyone you meet may just be a figment of your imagination. The world that you're living in could just be an illusion you've created within your own mind."

            "And so you're saying that you're the only thing that's real here?"

            "How can you prove what's real and what isn't?"

            "Are you saying that every drop of blood I've shed, every strike of pain I've felt, everything I've ever touched, all that I hear around me, every tear I've cried, and everyone I know isn't real?"

            "Are you saying it is?"

            "It all seems pretty convincing to me."

            "Senses and emotions are all created by the mind. Everything begins and ends there. To you, what is real? Am I real?"

            "I'd say so."

            The woman smiled once more, and Dante's heart sank again. He tried to stay skeptical about everything she had just said, but he knew that there was a very good possibility that she was right.

She looked up into his eyes. He gave in, but this time he felt like she was looking right through him, as if she could see right into the depths of his very soul. This time, he couldn't escape from her gaze. This time, it was the exact opposite of what had happened outside. Instead of him becoming nothing but his mind, he felt as if his mind had just stopped working entirely, and that everything he was experiencing right now was purely physical.

He then felt both of her hands on his chest, and the feeling rippled throughout his entire body. His breath became shallow. Out of all of the girls he had been with in his life, he had never felt this way before. The words, 'Am I real?' rang between his ears as she leaned up and he could feel her lips lock with his.

            At that moment, he submitted to her, and felt as if he was falling into a deep abyss. He immediately closed his eyes and returned her kiss. Instead of his senses being shut off, all of them seemed to ignite. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her as close as physically possible up against his chest. All of his basic instincts kicked in at that moment, and all he wanted was to throw her down and make love to her until the sun came up. His hands moved quickly up her body as he just wanted more. He had a hunger that needed to be satisfied, and she was the only thing on the menu.

            Instead of letting him have what she knew he wanted, she then slipped out of his grasp and walked back a few steps. Dumbfounded, Dante opened his eyes and stared hard at her. He was furious at her at this point, and could not understand why or how she could be so cruel as to do something like that to him. All he could do was stare. He didn't move, he didn't speak. He only stared.

            "Dante!" he heard from his left. He knew it was Trish, and he knew she was coming, but he still didn't move. "There you are!"

            Trish wasn't able to walk into the room before she asked, "Dante, what are you staring at?"

            Reflexively, Dante glanced at Trish and then back out in front of him.

            The woman was gone. His fury was gone. The rose in his belt remained.

            Dante collapsed on the ground.

            _"Am I real?"_

====

Author's notes: yup. How'd you like it? Give me ideas for chapter 2. I'm all out. hahah

====


	2. Two

====

Two.

====

The smell of flowers surrounded Dante. Feeling very relaxed, he opened his tired eyes and looked at the world around him. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and shade from a tree directly over his head kept him cool. The field's rolling hills were dotted by colorful flowers of pink, yellow, red, and purple. Directly to his right was one solitary blue rose. There was no bush and no other roses around it. It was just there, growing from the ground on its own. He smiled and looked over at the bright crimson one that was still attached to his left side. He actually enjoyed laying here, away from the chaos and stress of his normal life. He knew he couldn't do this every day, but for now, it was nice. He reached over and grabbed the blue rose, gently tugging it from the ground.

            Dante rolled over slightly onto his left side, careful not to crush the rose, and smiled at the woman laying next to him. She looked back up at him, her dark brown eyes filled with love and admiration. Dante gingerly pushed her usually dark brown hair, which shone in the ray of the sun as a chocolate brown with red and blonde highlights, out of her face with the stem of the freshly picked rose and placed it behind her ear. She smiled back at him. Neither could recall being happier.

            An eerie silence fell over the two lovers. They simply stared at one another. No words were said nor any movements made. It was just a great silence, a disturbing pause. It was as if time had stopped. And as quickly as it all happened, it was all over as well. Things went back to normal as Dante leaned in and sank the two of them into a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and nothing else mattered at that point.

            Just as he was closing his eyes, the green grass, the blue sky, and the vibrant color of the flowers, all seemed to mold together. Not that he cared. All he wanted was to be so close to this woman forever. It was short lived, however, as the kiss came to an end. He opened his eyes again to find the world around him spinning. Confused, he looked back down. The woman that was just in his arms was gone. As soon as he realized that, the spinning stopped. All of the colors were all melted together, and the scenery began to just drip away like paint slowly sliding down the sides of a canvas…

            Soon there was nothing. Everything was black. There was no up, there was no down, no left nor right. There was only darkness that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles—perhaps even forever. In the midst of it all was Dante, still in full color. He felt short of breath, but sat up anyway, placing a hand on his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts. His head began to spin, but in the distance ahead of him he could hear footsteps. They were light and faint and seemed to be running. Listening closer, he could tell that the person, whoever it was, wasn't running toward him. Rather, they were running away from him, as fast as humanly possible. Somebody wanted to be as far away from Dante as could be.

            All of his senses ignited. His Hunter's senses immediately kicked in. He was a Devil Hunter, this was true, but he was also half demon himself. It was a fact he occasionally forgot. This time, he couldn't have ignored this even if he wanted to. With all of his senses heightened past that of any human being, he knew that the person running from him was the woman he had just shared a kiss with not a minute earlier. All that mattered now was catching her.

            Dante sprang to his feet and immediately darted off directly in front of him as fast as he could. Her footsteps were getting louder now. She could never outrun the Hunter at the pace she was going. He could smell her now, and could almost even taste her. His body temperature began to rise. Blood pounded between his ears. He was getting close now. He was so very close. He wanted her. She had to become his again. He wouldn't have it any other way. She began to materialize in front of him. He felt a fire light deep within his soul and a wicked smile spread across his face. She looked over her shoulder. Realizing he was catching up, her own pace quickened.

            Determined not to lose her, Dante made a leap for her. Just as he was about to grab her arm, a blinding white light sprung forth, and Dante fell short of his target. He stayed down on one knee for a while, breathing heavily, with his eyes fixated on what should have been the ground under him. After a few seconds, his ice blue eyes slowly moved upward and outlined the curvy body of the woman standing before him. She had stopped now, and her back was still turned to him.

            After a few more deep breaths, Dante pulled himself to his feet. Not saying a word, he took one step toward her. At that, she turned around to look at him. His eyes fell on the amulet around her neck. It flashed once, as if it were an omen to something. Looking further down her body, Dante's eyes befell an ornate dagger in the woman's hand. It was an omen indeed. Lightning sparked around the blade a few times, and before Dante could make a comparison to that and his beloved sword, Alastor, he felt a sharp and intense heat consume his body, starting at a small point in his chest. The woman that he had felt at peace with just minutes before had stabbed him.

            Normally, Dante could've taken being run through, even with the elements behind it as well. For some reason, he couldn't this time. His knees bucked and he threw his head back, a blood-curdling scream escaping from his lips. All of the air escaped his lungs with that scream, and he stumbled backwards, looking right into the eyes of the woman who had just succeeded in taking his eyes.

            When he looked into her eyes, he saw himself staring back. He was immediately reminded of Trish. This woman, however, was far from anything near Trish. He struggled to breathe in, wanting to scream his lungs out at her. His lungs, though, were already gone. With a pain-stricken expression plastered on his face, Dante closed his eyes and began to fall backwards. All the woman did was watch.

            Instead of hitting the ground, he felt himself being caught. It wasn't the brown-eyed woman, however. It was most definitely a man, he concluded. Though it took every last ounce of strength left in his body, Dante opened his eyes to look at what he thought would have been his savior.

            He was suddenly back in the field. His eyes were now locked onto the face of his brother, Vergil. The look in his eyes, though, was cold, uncaring, and unforgiving. Dante wanted to cry. In the face of death, all he wanted to do was cry and beg for his brother's forgiveness. All Vergil did, though, was stand there, holding his twin brother. All he did was hold him and watch him die.

            The last thing that Dante saw before he died was the ruthless stare of his older twin, the smiling face of the brown-eyed woman standing behind Vergil, and the sight of falling rose petals, both blue and red.

            _"Dante…"_

Silence.

            _"Dante…"_

            Silence.

            _"Dante, wake up… Please…"_

            Dante awoke with a start, hitting whatever was hovering over him out of the way. He was drenched in his own sweat and his eyes were burning. Moaning a bit, he reached up and rubbed them. They were moist. Dante had been crying in his sleep. Paranoid about anyone possibly seeing it, he quickly wiped his cheeks with his hands and pushed himself into a sitting position.

            Looking around him, Dante realized that he was on the couch in the basement of Devil May Cry. He had refurnished the basement to be the residential part of the building, seeing as how he lacked the money to pay for both the office and a separate apartment. Taking a deep breath, he removed the light crimson blanket that was on him and went to swing his legs over the side to stand up, when he realized that Trish was sitting on the floor, holding her cheek in pain. She was what he smacked out of his way when he woke up.

            "Glad you're awake," she mumbled sarcastically.

            "We were worried about you," came another voice from the other side of the couch, followed by a giggle. "I don't come with you for one mission, and Trish has to drag your unconscious body back to the office, huh?"

            Dante stood up, being careful not to kick Trish as he did. He felt that he had already caused her enough physical pain for one day. He reached both of his hands behind his back and stretched a bit before cracking his neck. He glanced over to the woman whose voice came from the other side of the couch: Lucia. Her green eyes sparkled with both amusement and relief as she looked at the now awakened Hunter. He forced a smile at her before turning his attention to the floor.

            "What happened to you, Dante?" Trish asked, standing up. "You just passed out back there. You've been out for two days"

            He turned to look at her. She seemed concerned, but Dante was forced to look past that. On a little table in the far corner to his right was a single bright red rose in a small white vase. He began to sweat again.

            "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice trailing off.

            Trish stared at him in puzzlement. Studying his expression, she turned around to look at what was more interesting to him than she was at the moment. She saw the rose and smiled, shaking her head. She turned back to look at him. He had not moved a muscle. Still smiling, Trish turned back around and made her way toward the small table. She reached out to grab it…

            "Don't touch it!"

            Trish whipped back around to look at her partner. His voice was sharp and fierce. Trish never thought that he'd ever strike her, but at that moment, she had her doubts. She furrowed her brow and slowly made her way back over to Dante, whose eyes were engulfed in flames. Taking a deep breath, she sat on the armrest of the brown couch and folded her arms over her chest. She looked over at Lucia, who had the same expression of surprise, shock, and confusion on her face. Nodding once, Trish turned her gaze back over to Dante.

            Realizing what he had just said, Dante shook his head, trying to rid himself of such strange thoughts. In fact, he did not even recognize his own voice when he scolded Trish. He scratched the back of his head and looked over at his blonde colleague. He forced a smile.

            "Sorry," he said, his voice low.

            Trish just waved it off. "That must have been one terrible nightmare."

            Dante's eyes widened, hoping that neither of the girls had seen him crying while he was asleep. He soon regained his composure, giving out a low chuckle.

            "What nightmare?" he asked coolly.

            "You must be kidding," Lucia said.

            "You were weeping like a child," Trish added.

            Dante let his head drop, knowing that there was no way to talk his way out of this one, especially of both girls had seen it. He clenched his fists and plopped back onto his couch, placing both arms on his knees and his eyes on the floor. After taking a deep breath, he lifted his head up to look over at his left at Trish, who still hadn't looked at him, and completely ignored the strands of hair that slightly obstructed his view of the blonde demon.

            "Trish," he said. "What can you tell me about my brother?"

            Trish's head perked up. This was the first time he had ever asked about anything concerning his brother. She had never brought it up, either. She always thought that it bothered him to think about it. She leaned back against the back of the couch and placed her arms behind her head, trying her best to think of what Vergil was like before his mind was completely taken over.

            "He would always drive everyone nuts," she answered, a smile gracing her lovely face, "because he wasn't a tightass like everyone else. He was a very easy-going guy. You remember that bedroom in the mansion? That was his room. Whenever he wasn't being broken down emotionally or being trained to kill, he would always spend his time in there. He'd always be staring out of the window, just thinking. I never knew what about. We would give him some freedom, too. Your brother was an amazing artist. Some of the drawings he created would frighten a few people, though. Because of his emotional and mental breakdown, he was a very disturbed person. He was absolutely genius, though. When I was still only a few months old, I would always just sit with him in his room and listen to him talk. I admired him so much."

            "How old are you, Trish?" Lucia asked.

            "Three years," she laughed.

            Dante scowled. "Only three? There's so much you probably don't know."

            "What do you want to know, Dante?" she asked.

            "Did he talk about me ever?" he asked. "Or about my mother or father? Did he ever have a girlfriend? Was he corrupted before you found him?"

            Trish paused, thinking for a while. She was spawned from hell for two reasons. Her first was to take care of Vergil before he was completely brainwashed to fight for the lord of the underworld, Mundus. Her other job was to lure Dante to the gateway of hell, a mansion on an island known as Mallet, and bring him to his demise. Out of all the time she had looked after Vergil, however, he mostly talked about earthly things and the way of the world. Trish always assumed that was the reason why she was able to change the way she did.

            "Vergil was a little corrupt when we found him," she said. "He never talked about being that way, though, but we could tell. Only his views were corrupted. His standpoint on good or evil was on evil. He was a good man, though. He was filled with compassion and wisdom.

            "As far as you and your parents are concerned, I do think I remember him talking about you once or twice. He would always tell me stories from when you and him were boys. He always had a smile in his eyes when he'd talk about you, until he'd mention that you and him had clashing views now that you were older."

            "Did he hate me for that?" Dante asked.

            Trish shook her head. "He never hated you. He said he couldn't. You were his twin, after all."

            Dante leaned back against the back of the couch, closing his eyes, taking in all of this information. He cleared his throat and placed a hand on his chin, nodding over at Trish to continue. She took a deep breath and looked upward at the ceiling, trying to recall her conversations with Vergil.

            "He once said," she continued, "that he used to hate his mother. He hated her for dying and leaving the two of you on your own. He never knew the truth of what really happened until years later. He thought that she had just given up on the both of you.

            "As for a girlfriend, Vergil was a real ladies' man. I guess it runs in the family. The last girl he was with, though, made a real impression on him. She was three years younger than he was. I can't recall how they met, but when they did, it clicked instantly with them. She looked up to him so much, and all he wanted to do was look after her. Things got complicated though."

            "Complicated how?" Dante asked, his eyes still closed.

            "I don't know," Trish replied sadly. "All I know about her is that her name was Luna and that she died five years ago."

            "You don't know what she looked like?"

            "Not really. Only that she was pretty short. Vergil always called her 'Midget' or 'Little One.' She'd get upset over it even though Vergil had a fetish for girls on the short side. She was pretty touchy about her height. Oh, and that she had brown hair and brown eyes."

            Dante's eyes opened. His hand dropped back down onto the seat of the couch, but he didn't say a word. The image of the woman he had met in the abandoned house the other night flashed in front of his eyes. He looked over at the rose on the table. It seemed to be growing taller rather than wilting. With a grim expression on his face, he turned his attention to Trish.

            "And you say she's been dead for five years?" he asked.

            "Yeah," Trish nodded. "Vergil was teaching her how to fight. She wasn't ready to go on her own yet when they were ambushed by stray demons. He wasn't able to protect her."

            Dante nodded once and stood up. That was all he needed to hear. His expression now changed from grim to disturbed as he made his way past Lucia, who had noticed the look on his face, and made his way up the stairs. Not knowing what Dante had on his mind and having bad experiences with pushing him to talk about what he was feeling, she decided to just stay put.

            Trish didn't move a muscle, but Lucia made her way over to the couch and sat down. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back and rolled her head over to look in Trish's direction. The other woman seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. Lucia unknowingly occupied her right hand with her red braid as she turned her head again to stare blankly at the white wall in front of her.

            "Trish," she began, "How close were you with Dante's brother?"

            Trish looked over at the red-haired woman to her right. She plopped down off the armrest and onto a cushion on the couch and thought for a while. She didn't even know herself, really. Vergil was always a mystery wrapped in an enigma. Though he would always talk to her, she would never know what was really going on in his mind. Trish looked down at her lap.

            "I don't know," she said. "Before he went insane, even though I was supposed to be the one looking after him, I admired him a lot. But as I slowly had to force him into madness, my admiration turned to pity."

            "Something tells me that when you say admiration, you mean love," Lucia commented.

            "I still don't know the difference between those two feelings," Trish replied distantly. "Lucia, what is love, exactly?"

            "I couldn't tell you that," she said sadly.

            "I know what it means to make love," Trish said suddenly. "And if that's what you're referring to, then yes. I did love Vergil."

            Lucia's eyes opened wide in shock. Her head whipped over to her left, her jaw dropping in disbelief from what her comrade had just said to her. She just stared at her blankly for a few seconds, trying to digest what she had just learned. Regaining composure, she swallowed hard and shook her head, returning her attention to the wall before her. Her head dropped, still at a loss for words.

            Trish didn't understand Lucia's surprise. She looked over at her red-headed friend in confusion. "What's wrong?"

            Amazed and a little angry that Trish had the nerve to ask such a question, Lucia shot back, "You slept with him!"

            "Understand, Lucia," Trish said soothingly. "I didn't know right from wrong then. I didn't care whether something was right or sinful. Vergil had been locked in a mansion for two years with no one but me and a few inanimate marionettes for companionship. By that time, he had lost all hope and desire of getting free. He was undergoing a process of mental and emotional breakdown. He was teetering on the brink of complete insanity. He didn't care what happened to him anymore. He was a prisoner that was being trained to kill with no remorse. All of his morals were pretty much shot to hell. There was nothing left for him to do but to just stick it out and keep on living. When he came back from one of his breakdown sessions completely frantic and overwrought, what was I supposed to do? Say no? Walk away? I had no morals."

            Lucia let her head hit the back of the couch and closed her eyes. She hated it when she was reminded that Trish and Dante were demons. As far as she was concerned, they were just as human as she was. She didn't understand why it bothered her so much, and she really didn't understand why she got so upset about Trish sleeping with Vergil. Maybe it was because of the fact that she had kept it from Dante. Maybe it was because she always thought that Trish and Dante would end up together one day. Just like Trish didn't know what Vergil was ever thinking, Lucia never knew what was going through Dante's head.

            "Does Dante know?" Lucia asked softly, obviously upset.

            "No. I never felt the need to tell him," she answered before smiling. "But if it makes you feel any better, he called me Luna."

            A smile spread across Lucia's face. "No he didn't."

            Trish chuckled. "I was a bit confused when he did."

            Lucia shook her head, smiling over at Trish. Satisfied with that, Trish stood up and began to walk away.

            "I'm going to go check on Dante," she said over her shoulder. "And if you hear any loud crashes, don't worry. Everything's fine."

Dante sat down at his desk in the office, not wanting to believe what he had just heard. The woman that had kissed him in that house two nights ago, the woman who had made his senses heighten with the delight of lust from only one kiss, the woman who had given him a rose that he still had, the woman that had disappeared before his very eyes, the woman who had haunted him in his dreams, was dead. He had made out with a ghost. A ghost that had been sleeping with his brother in life, no doubt.

            None of this made sense. If she was dead, how could he have touched her like that? How could he have heard her voice? That's when it hit him: he had no way of proving that she wasn't real.

            _"Am I real?"_

            He had no idea what was real anymore. At this point he had just assumed that his dreams were what was real and that everything else was really the dream. Maybe they were, at the same time, both truth and fiction. No one can tell whether or not that was true. No one could prove it. Perhaps she really was the only actual thing in this world. Perhaps Dante's whole life was just made up within his own mind. He then concluded that he must be a very disturbed person if he managed to make all of the events in his life up out of nowhere.

            He sighed and closed his eyes tightly. He didn't want to believe that this was happening. Opening his eyes and leaning back against his big, comfortable chair, he reached over and grabbed a picture that was on the corner of the wide desk in front of him. It was a picture of his mother, his brother, and himself outside in a field. It was only then that he had recognized the background.

            Right next to his brother was one solitary blue rose.

====

Author's Notes: Woo. Oh, the confusion. What does it all mean? And how did Dante make out with a spirit? Damned if I know. O.o Free your mind! Now you get it. Or not. And to you wonderful people actually reviewing my story who said that it reminded you of the Matrix, this may sound surprising, but I've never seen those movies. (ashamed) From what I've heard about them, though, that's not the route I want to take with this story, so you'll just have to keep reading to find out what happens. AND TELL PEOPLE TO R&R THIS DAMN THING. It sucks busting your ass on a story that you know no one is reading… Reviews keep me motivated, people.

====


End file.
